The Way You Look
by YoungBek
Summary: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, and Rhys draw each other from memory. Artists, they are not. Written for Torchwood Fic Week under "Crack"


Although this was written for the prompt "Crack", I've found I don't know how to make things cracky enough. It's still a good story, so I hope you'll still read it, but it's a bit more realistic than most crack fics.

This was beta read by boredsince1894, if I haven't beaten it into the ground enough, go check her out!

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The only sound in the room was the scratch of pencil grazing paper, dark enough to leave a mark but light enough to only cast a shadow.

Jack Harkness sat alone at a table, sketch book held awkwardly in his left hand. His brow was scrunched down in frustrated concentration, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with the portrait he was drawing. He erased a bit of nose and drew it back, only marginally different than the one before it.

He decided it was close enough, and began to darken the lines.

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Ianto's eyes looked like they'd pop from his skull any minute. He ran his fingers in his hair, glaring at the sketch that lay on the table. He knew exactly what he was trying to draw. He knew it backwards and forwards and with his eyes closed. He just didn't know how to make his hands obey his mind. The dark lines were out of proportion and curved, looking nothing like the picture glimmering in his head.

He groaned and turned to the next page, ready to try again.

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Gwen sat back in her chair and stifled a giggle as she saw the completed picture. It was hardly better than the pictures her mam used to put on the fridge when she was six. Maybe it was a little better, and every detail was there, if not correctly portrayed. She chuckled again at the goofy face on the paper.

She couldn't wait to show this off.

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Rhys was hard at work, pressing down on the coarse sheet of paper with a dark pencil. His face was an inch from the paper, his tounge stuck out in concentration as he tried to get that curve just right. It was his favorite after all.

He knew he wasn't an artist. God knew he never should be, but he was determined to get this as right as he could. He had to do Gwen justice.

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Ianto and Jack sat across from each other, each with their sketch pads shut tight in front of them. The younger man had his hands resting across the papers, sure to not let Jack see a page of it. He awkwardly shifted in his seat, wondering how well Jack did with his.

The captain leaned backwards in his chair, affectionately admiring the man across the table form him.

"So we just show the drawings?" Ianto questioned, for once needing to fill the silence.

"Think so. Nervous?" He teased, earning only a glare in response. He picked up his sketchpad and walked around the room, sitting on the table in front of Ianto. He flipped through until he found the final product. He took a deep breath and turned the picture around.

"Shit, Jack, you can draw?" Ianto asked as the older man revealed an almost perfect if undetailed portrait of him. He stared in awe before he began to giggle to himself. Jack gave him a questioning glance, and Ianto laughed harder.

"What?" Jack inquired, half confused, half admiring.

"I can't." He replied, meeting Jack's eyes with a sparkle of his own. For a few long seconds Jack was even more lost, not understanding what was funny, or what the younger man couldn't do. However, the light blush that began to grow on his cheeks finally made him understand. A wide grin spread across his face, almost in a leer.

"How bad did you do?" He asked him. The blush grew deeper, and his laughter increased. "Come on, show me."

"Not a chance." Ianto chuckled out between gasps. Jack pouted but the Welshman wasn't even looking. He was too busy glancing at the awful sketch in front of him, shielded from Jack's view.

The captain waited a few more seconds and then launched himself forward to snatch the book from his hand. However, Ianto was too fast for him and knocked his hand away, standing up as he did so. He stood above his lover, a satisfied smirk on his face, daring Jack to try again.

Instead of trying to reach for the picture again, he reached around to the small of his back, tugging lightly so that he stood between his knees. He moved his other hand to his chin and tilted it to meet his lips, slowly. Ianto settled his empty hand on his hip, squeezing to get the familiar feel of his captain.

Their lips moved together and if it weren't for the metal that coiled the pages together pressing into his hand, he would have forgotten about the sketchbook entirely. Jack moved his hand from his back, moving steadily forward. Ianto pulled him even closer.

Too fast for him to even know what had happened, Jack had swiped the sketchpad from his hand and rolled backwards farther onto the table, just out of his reach. His darkened eyes blinked, trying to get rid of the lust filled haze in his mind before he realized Jack had already flipped to the right page. The awkward, disproportionate picture stared back at him and he couldn't keep the amused smile off his face.

"You sort of got the chin right." He said, watching Ianto switch from embarrassment to humor to irritation in a cycle. "Honestly, Ianto, it's not so bad."

"Don't patronize me." He grumbled, glowering at his lover who knelt on the opposite side of the table.

"I'm not! I can understand what you were trying to do." He tilted his head, trying to view it from another angle.

"Trying to do and failed to do." He muttered.

"It's so of refreshing. This is the first thing that I've seen you do that you aren't perfect at."

"I know and I hate it." Jack crawled back over the table and kissed Ianto on the nose. You're human. Nothing wrong with that." He clamber off the table and drew him close again. "And I could help you practice. I'm pretty good at nude modeling."

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Rhys drummed a quick beat lightly on the table he was sitting behind. He didn't know what was taking Gwen so long. He swore, he'd spent more than half his life waiting on Gwen bloody Cooper. Not that he'd have it any other way, of course. He'd wait two or three lifetimes for her if that was necessary.

He jumped in his seat when the heavy metal door clumsily swung open. Gwen strode in not a second later, sketchbook tucked under her arm professionally. Her eyes scanned the room until she got to Rhys, grinning at her like a fool from where he sat. He wiped the smile from his face and beckoned to the seat in front of him.

"I've been expecting you Ms. Cooper." Gwen strutted to the chair, adding just a little more sway to her hips. She sat down, back straight. Rhys stared at her, mouth bobbing open and closed. He'd started off pretty strong, but he just couldn't remember the punchline. It was a good one, too. Gwen smiled reassuringly.

"Ready?" She said pulling her sketch pad to herself and flipping to the right page. She nodded towards her fiancé to do the same. She continued as he found the picture. "One, two, three…" She paused meaningfully to let Rhys know when to show the sketch, "Draw!" She shouted, spinning her sketch around, followed only a second later by Rhys. It was quiet for a few seconds while they inspected each other's handiwork.

"Don't you think my head is a bit too round?" Rhys asked, squinting and tilting his head to make sense of the portrait.

"Well I think you're gorgeous, anyway." Gwen chuckled.

"I meant the bloody picture!" Rhys defended himself, only a little less offended that he was pretending to be.

"I know." Gwen grinned mischievously. "I'm only messing with you. Besides, what is going on with my mouth?" She laughed, not taking it nearly as seriously as her fiancé.

"It's your teeth. With the gap and all." He said, still not getting the joke.

"What do you mean?!" She exclaimed, mock frantically, bringing her hands to her mouth. "I have a gap?" Finally Rhys realized she was only messing with him and allowed himself to laugh.

"Alright, alright, I get your point. Artists, we are not."

"Well, no. We shouldn't quit our day jobs."

"Or in your case day, night, and end-of-the-world jobs.

"Someone has to do it." Gwen shrugged at him, hoping that a row wasn't about to break out.

"I am proud of you. You know that?" He said. She was pleasantly surprised at the positive turn.

"Not as proud as me."

"I know you're impressive, but isn't that a bit conceited, Gwen?" He joked back at her. A light amused smile grace his features.

"I meant you, you fool. Care to get out of here?" She asked, nodding her head towards the door.

"Thought you'd never ask." He replied pushing away from the table, leaving the notebook where it lay.

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Thank you for reading! This is my last submission for Torchwood Fic Week, and it was a pleasure writing for all of you. Thanks for reading.


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